


Blood in Friendship

by gnimaerd



Category: Dracula (TV 2013)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 07:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1028760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnimaerd/pseuds/gnimaerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometime in the future, vampire!Mina is starving for lack of blood and Lucy decides to help her. (Warning: some depictions of blood, self-harm).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood in Friendship

The day comes, inevitably, when Lady Jayne cannot find a suitable body.

It’s been weeks and Mina is past the point of hunger to near starvation – she’s sickly and pale(r than usual), her lips are turning grey, she grows restless but increasingly weak, and her eyes gradually take on the dull, glassy quality of those that might be more readily found in the face of a corpse. Jayne is beginning to worry that they will have to confine her for all their safety – if she becomes delirious Mina’s hunger could drive her to attack and kill any one of them.

Although the real irritant is Lucy, who’s besides herself and, as a result, even shriller than usual.

“Not one?!” She all but shrieks at Jayne, that evening, “you’ve not found a single murderer – not a single rapist – in the entire of London? In six weeks?”

“We should all rejoice, our fair city seems to be experiencing an unparalleled period of peace.”

Lucy is unamused, “What about the prisons? The gallows?”

“I’m not sending her into that sort of danger on my account,” Mina interrupts, from where she is on the sofa. Lucy has banked the fire and set Mina in front of it in a vain attempt to keep her friend warm – Mina started shivering a few hours ago and hasn’t been able to stop since.

“The danger, when compared to stalking a rapist along the docks, is negligible,” Jayne tells them, lounging against the door – the room is far, far too hot for her leathers and she’s attempting to look nonchalant instead of merely sweaty, “the issue is simply one of penetration. Prisons are not easy places to infiltrate, let alone get out of with a live prisoner. And it’s hardly as if people wouldn’t notice a club-weilding aristocrat dragging a child molester from the gallows before their blood grows cold. I was under the impression that Miss Murray’s predicament was to be kept discreet.”

“But then what are we to do?” Lucy clenches her hands, “she cannot – sustain like this much longer. She’s growing weaker by the hour.”

“I’m fine,” Mina murmurs the patent falsehood as she lays her head against the sofa’s arm, her eyelashes fluttering.

“Nothing can truly kill Mina,” Jayne tells Lucy, rationally, “aside, of course, from the obvious combinations of stake to the heart, silver, sunlight or decapitation. She cannot die of starvation, she can only suffer for it.”

Lucy is not at all comforted by this.

“At worst she may – whither.”

“Wither?” Lucy is glances worriedly at Mina, “even more so?”

“She means that I’ll be reduced to – a shrivelled thing,” Mina raises her voice a little, “a dead thing, like those Egyptian mummys in the royal museum.”

“Oh, good God,” Lucy presses her palms to her eyes.

“Perhaps it would be for the best,” Mina reflects, “at least I would be of no danger to anyone in that state. And it would – only be temporary, wouldn’t it?”

She turns her glassy eyes on Jayne, who cannot help but feel a twinge of sympathy – Mina is normally so vibrant and is, in her current state, so deathly that it’s unnerving.

“A drop or two of blood will restore you from that state,” she confirms “although you would need to feed almost immediately upon being revived to save being returned to it.”

“So you simply let me sleep until you find another suitable body for me to feed from,” Mina says, as if she were discussing something far more mundane.

Lucy’s misery is palpable – Jayne wonders how long it has been since either of these women spent more than a few days apart… Lucy is so emotionally dependant it’s ridiculous. Jayne cannot abide neediness in others, especially not in someone like Lucy, who feigns supreme independence until her heart, in Mina, is under threat, and then is reduced to a wailing, trembling maiden, no better than the useless damsels in fairy tales.

“But you are in such pain already,” Lucy’s voice has taken on that tone that she reserves exclusively for Mina – although here Jayne can understand Lucy’s concern.

The process of ‘withering’ will be incredibly painful, and that Mina is willing to suffer it in order to save them the trouble of her care is testament enough as to why she should be spared it… although what alternative they can provide is a mystery.

They have already tried her on pigs’ blood to little avail – Mina could keep it down but complained that it burned her stomach and tasted acrid – and she has either vomited up or outright been unable to swallow anything else but that which she most needs.

Of course, the solution has already occurred to Lucy.

“Give me your knife – ” presumptuous as ever she reaches for the one strapped to Jayne’s thigh without waiting for permission – Jayne steps backwards, not at all sure she wants to trust this woman with a sharp object.

“What?” Mina squints from the sofa, although Jayne has already sensed Lucy’s intent.

“That would be unwise,” she warns.

“Do you have a better solution?” Lucy demands, and her cheeks flushing. Stupid, Jayne thinks – this woman wants to kill herself. 

“What are you – suggesting?” Mina asks, uncertainly – she’s clutching her stomach, gripping the sofa with her other hand.

“I’ll feed you,” Lucy says, turning to her, “I can do it, can’t I? There’s no danger if I cut myself rather than you biting – ”

“Well, I should think the danger of you severing an artery and bleeding to death would be a rather grave one,” Jayne points out, coolly.

Mina looks horrified. “I can’t take your blood!”

“So you shan’t – I’m giving it to you,” Lucy replies, before rounding on Jayne again, “give me your knife or I swear I’ll use a knitting needle to do it.”

“No!” Mina cries, vehemently shaking her head, “I won’t have it, Lucy, I can’t let you – I would rather – ”

“Die? And here was I thinking we’d rather eliminated that as an option.”

“Let me wither!” Mina snaps, “I will not have people endangering themselves for me – I will not have Jayne dragging men from the gallows, I will not have you slitting yourself open – I have lost too much already!”

And in the middle of this insistent denial, Lucy has snatched Jayne’s knife before she can be stopped and pressed the tip to her wrist.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, not like that,” Jayne sighs, even as Mina weakly shrieks at Lucy to put the knife down – “You’ll cut a tendon – look, if you must, go further up, not so deeply – ”

“Jayne!” Mina gives her a desperate look, “stop her! She’ll die!”

“She’s in reasonable health – she’ll survive some blood loss,” Jayne shrugs, “besides, dear, you cannot tell me you would rather wither than feed.”

“I would rather it than this,” Mina looks utterly miserable, “please – Lucy – Lucy, don’t – ”

But Lucy, with surprising nerve, has already rolled up a sleeve.

“You’ll need a tourniquet,” Jayne suggests, “a bootlace will do – ”

Mina lapses into silence, apparently too exhausted to protest further, although she hides her face in her hands, unwilling to watch – strange squeamish student for a medical student (and one who has ripped open the throat of more than one half-dead rapist in the last year), but Jayne supposes this must be different.

She uses her own bootlace in the end, binds it as tightly as she can just above Lucy’s elbow. Lucy squirms but doesn’t complain as the lace bites into her skin.

“You’d best advise as to where exactly to cut, Mina,” Jayne glances at where Mina is still refusing to watch the proceedings, “you’ll know better than either of us.”

Mina does not appear from behind her hands, her voice muffled but resigned. “Avoid the pit of the elbow – cut… length ways, into the flesh of the forearm – don’t get too close to the wrist.”

Jayne looks to Lucy, who’s jaw is set even as she twitches the knife nervously with her other hand.

“Want to do the honours or would you rather me?”

“I can do it,” Lucy insists, sharply, “I need a moment, that’s all.”

“Bring her something to eat,” Mina suggests, still behind her hands, “she’ll get dizzy after – she’ll need food. Something sugary.”

Jayne takes that a veiled request and leaves to let them get on with it. She’s no burning desire to see what’s about to transpire and certainly she’s aware of Mina’s aversion to being watched whilst she eats – she has never let anyone see her feed on the hapless criminals brought to her for such a purpose. The poor woman must be allowed some dignity.

As soon as Jayne has left the room, before she can overthink it, Lucy sinks the tip of the knife into her forearm, roughly where Mina had indicated she should. The pain is a short, sharp shock, cool and clear – but she doesn’t stop, yanks the blade down and along before she can loose her nerve. She bites back a gasp, watches stinging scarlet well up instantaneously – not enough, she realises. She will have to go deeper, this wound is hardly trickling.

She tries again, mentally cursing at herself when her hand shakes. She will not be weak about this. Jonathan has run off like the cowardly little boy he is, so the least she can do is not take on like an infant over a comparatively small injury on Mina’s behalf.

The second wound seems to be enough.

“There,” she says, keeping the tremor from her voice, “hurry up, Mina, or else I’ll be dripping all over the carpet – do you know how hard it is to get blood out of Turkish silk?”

Mina sits up, hazards a look at Lucy’s extended forearm, and, whether from the scent of long-denied sustenance or the nature of her friend’s sacrifice, begins to cry.

“Oh – Lucy – ”

“Don’t be so wet,” Lucy tells her, “eat, for goodness sake.”

Mina takes Lucy’s wrist, very cautiously, and draws her to the sofa, handling the arm with delicate, trembling fingers. It’s not an especially long cut, but it’s probably deeper than is quite safe – it will need stitches, she thinks distantly, as the smell of the blood begins to make her stomach snarl.

It feels unseemly to lick up what’s already trickling down to Lucy’s wrist – Mina uses her sleeve to stem it, then, as deftly as she can, presses her mouth to the wound. She feels a shiver go through Lucy when she sucks, but that’s as nothing to the singular moment of deep, sweet relief when the blood hits the back of her throat.

For the first time in hours she stops trembling – for the first time in days the pain in her belly eases.

She is careful – she doesn’t grip Lucy’s arm too tightly, she doesn’t let her tongue touch the flesh – she is afraid that if she exchanges any other fluid with her friend she risks infecting her with whatever it is that keeps her in this unnatural state. But she feeds – more precisely, really, she suckles, like some parody of an infant. It’s absurd, it’s unnatural, it’s awful, but… it’s the most peace she’s had in weeks. And when she feels Lucy stroking her hair, she doesn’t shrug her away.

She lays her cheek on Lucy’s arm for a moment, to take a breath after the first desperate mouthful.

“Alright?” Lucy asks, sounding hesitant.

“Yes,” Mina doesn’t dare look at her, “thank you.”

“How long will this take do you think?” Lucy asks – she’s still stroking Mina’s hair – and she sounds so sure of herself, so utterly like she always does, that Mina wants to laugh.

“Do you have a pressing dinner engagement I’m keeping you from?”

“Well, I’d rather thought we were already at one…”

Mina giggles, a little hysterically, then catches her breath. “I daren’t take – very much. You can lose about a pint before it becomes really dangerous, so – ”

“A pint, then,” Lucy says, “how long will that take?”

“Perhaps half an hour? The tourniquet is slowing it so – ”

“Should I take it off?”

“No – no – ” Mina sits up, alarmed, to stay Lucy’s hand, “if you bleed too quickly you could lose too much – ”

She has blood on her face, she realises, by Lucy’s expression, and self-consciously puts a hand to her mouth.

“Keep going,” Lucy says, firmly, “mustn’t waste it.”

It takes a little longer than half an hour – Mina knows to pace herself, now, after some trial and error, knows that the relief will be greater and longer-lasting if she is steady about it. And Lucy is quiet through it all, almost the quietest that Mina has ever known her to be.

The situation necessitates that they huddle close to one another, as they did when they shared a bed as children, and the heat of Lucy’s skin is comforting as she strokes Mina’s hair. There is only the sound of the fire, crackling in the grate, and Lucy’s breath, and Mina’s pulse thrumming in her ears.

Jayne comes in to find them posed in some bizarre parody of the Madonna and Child, Mina still feeding, her face hidden beneath thick ringlets of hair, Lucy holding her with one steady, protective arm, her face a mask of pious calm.

Mina jerks upright at Jayne’s entrance, in some reflexive, defensive gesture – her fangs are bared, her chin dripping. For a moment she looks like every other monster Jayne has ever put paid to, hunched over a kill. And then Lucy has put a hand on Mina’s back and Mina has come back to herself and only looks like a frightened girl again, for all she’s dripping in her friend’s gore.

“You need stitches,” she says to Lucy, tightly holding the cut closed with both hands, “and we must disinfect it. Jayne, could you fetch my suture kit? And there’s wine and – honey – in the pantry. That will do for now.”

Lucy silently produces a handkerchief and uses her free hand to clean up Mina’s face, as best she can. “Such terrible table manners you’ve developed.”

Mina manages a short, grim laugh.

Jayne fetches the requested items, and watches Lucy take stitches with far less dignity than she did slicing open her own arm.

“I shall faint!” She cries, as Mina gently applies alcohol, “at the very least offer me some of that to drink – ”

Mina, so flushed with bright, brilliant life again, kisses her, very gently. “Do hush, Lucy.”

Lucy blushes, for what may very well be the first time, Jayne reflects. She knows what feeding does to vampires – Mina is probably brimming with all sorts of other appetites now, and she won’t sleep for the next couple of days – Jayne wonders if Lucy will have the energy to keep up.


End file.
